


of swords, blindfolds, and black shorts

by sigma (riecior)



Series: of costumes, wigs, and conventions [1]
Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Cosplayers, M/M, my guilty pleasure au...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riecior/pseuds/sigma
Summary: "Why do you only take pictures of me?""Because you're the coolest out of everyone here.""Uh, yeah, sure."Alternatively—Minhyun is a gentleman and Minki runs from his feelings.





	of swords, blindfolds, and black shorts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galacticnik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/gifts).



> i'm trash for cosplayer aus so here i am...henlo... 
> 
> a big thank you to B and E for helping me proofread but also please forgive any typos or grammatical errors on my end because i changed some stuff around afterwards;;
> 
> this is such a mess but i had fun writing it so i hope you enjoy!

Darkness is both terrifying, yet calming. The idea of one of your most important senses suddenly being taken gives you a primal instinct of fear—yet it also brings the others to the forefront.

In this instance, Minki hears everything. 

The sound of clicking coming from all angles, accompanied by the voices of ten, no—twenty people or more. They murmur and coo, but not all sounds were directed at him. Passing conversations; each voice with its own timbre and personality, but Minki didn’t pay attention to them. They weren’t meant for him, thus he had no need for them.

With his vision still submerged in darkness, he reaches back and grabs hold of something long—a sword. His fingers close around the handle, threatening to unsheath it, but stops just before. Upon holding the position, he hears the clicks increase in tempo. Three, five, ten seconds later, he finally decides he has waited enough and pulls the katana out from behind him in one swift motion. It feels familiar in his hands, exactly as he had shaped it. With the shift in stance, his feet were now firmly planted on the ground, his hands to his side - ready to take a swing. The clicks reached a crescendo—Minki was sure there were upwards of thirty voices now.

His heart thumps in his chest. All their eyes were on him, even if it wasn’t reciprocated. Pressure settles on his shoulders—just how many more were to come? If this continued on, he would stay sightless for even longer than anticipated...and it was unsettling. Were they friend or foe? There was no way for him to tell.

But he couldn’t show that, no. He was in his element, and god be damned if he was to let some noises disturb that peac—

“Minki, we’re going to eat.”

The familiar voice pierces through the veil of clicks and causes Minki to straighten up. His grip on the sword loosened with such carelessness a true wielder would have shuddered. With his now-free hand, he yanks the blindfold off his eyes.

A mistake, if he’s ever made one. The blinding light of the convention hall almost sears its way straight through his skull. His eyes reduce into mere squints as he tries to blink away the black spots now in his vision.

he already knew where he was though—smack dab in the middle of an anime convention dressed up as the android 9S from the game NieR:Automata...of course. How could he possibly forget? 

Choi Minki, also known as Ren, is a well-known cosplayer who’s famous for his looks and commitment to accuracy. Now a senior in the community, there’s hardly anyone who doesn't know his face, from photographers to fellow cosplayers. He was sought out during conventions, taking upwards of fifty selfies with acquaintances and even more pictures taken by strangers of him. It sounds creepier than it is, because none of them are actually there for  _ him _ . Everyone packed in the convention hall was united by a single, defining trait:

They were all goddamn weebs.

“Come on,” the familiar voice says again, only this time Minki could see the face it was coming from.

Hwang Minhyun—Minki’s good friend and tag-along. His face contrasts the sea of cameras with a smile as he leans forward to grab onto Minki’s hand. “Let’s go.”

And with that, Minhyun drags him out of the circle of reflectors and photographers. Minki can barely squeeze out a “please tag me in the pictures!” before he’s whisked away by the noble prince.

Once they break free from the crowd, Minhyun loosens his grip into a rather awkward wrist-hold. Minki contemplates asking about it, but those thoughts were thrown aside when Minhyun lets out a sigh of relief and stops in front of a pillar. 

“That was nerve-wracking,” he smiles, finally letting go of Minki’s hand. “What would you have done if I wasn’t there to bail you out?”

“I don’t know...probably pass out from exhaustion,” Minki snorts, stuffing the blindfold (which he had thankfully kept a hold on) into his pocket. “I was wondering it’d end.” 

“Well, you’re welcome,” Minhyun returns Minki’s sling bag and takes the other’s sword in one swift motion. “Check your phone, I heard it go off a few times.”

“Oh god,” Minki suddenly jumps to attention and digs through his bag in search for the mobile device. Sadly, the task was only encumbered by the thick, leather gloves on his hands. “Stupid gloves…” he mumbles under his breath and yanks one off in frustration. After the hinderance had been removed, everything became substantially easier. Minki pulls out his phone with a victorious grin before long.

“Oh, Nayoung texted me,” he hums as he scrolls through his messages.

“Has she found Jonghyun?”

“Yep, he was in the doujinshi area…”

“As expected.”

Minki stifles a laugh and leans against the pillar for support. “I have to meet up with her in a few hours for the photoshoot.”

“Hm. What do you want to do for now then?” Minhyun joins him, shoulders bumping into each other. His straight face falls for a moment at the sight of the picture Nayoung had sent of Jonghyun in a pair of fluffy cat ears.

“Don’t really know...I’m kinda tired—plus my legs are  _ freezing _ ,” Minki rubs at his exposed thighs to prove a point. Stupid shorts. 

(He swears he sees Minhyun staring at them out of the corner of his eye.)

“Do you want to join them for food then? I haven’t had lunch yet and the others are already there.”

“Ah, good idea. Saves me from having to find her in this crowd later on.”

Minhyun nods in agreement and takes Minki’s bag from his hands without notice, slinging it around his own shoulders. The action sets off some sort of sparkling noise inside of Minki’s mind, but he chooses to ignore it for the sake of his own sanity.

He’s always been like this—always the gentleman. Ever since the one time Minki asked him for his help all those years ago, Minhyun had always stuck around him. Minki didn’t mind just that in particular, but it was during conventions that he felt all the more self-conscious and guilty. 

Minhyun had no interest in anime. Unlike all these nerds playing dress up (yes that was a self-roast), he actually had a life outside of the hall. In fact, he was popular, smart, handsome...there was no reason for him to be hanging around a bunch of losers like this, let alone be Minki’s personal bag-bearer. It always baffled Minki, but he could never get a straight answer out of Minhyun.

Even now, with all the mall’s normal customers gawking at his get-up, he felt conscious not for himself, but for Minhyun having to be seen next to him. He was wearing the most normal clothes, a simple dress shirt and jeans (not to imply he didn’t look good), it would only be embarrassing to be walking next to a sword-toting, white-haired guy in black shorts.

Yet he does so anyways, all with a nonchalance in his step. Minki supposes he should count himself lucky to have such a seemingly-perfect friend, but instead felt undeserving. 

Though, speaking of undeserving—Minhyun was  _ really  _ not taking advantage of his godlike visuals. He could be internationally famous if he just...agreed to any of Minki’s attempts to get him into a costume. It was the only thing he was adamant about, saying that he would leave cosplaying to the professionals and other excuses like that. What a waste, Minki thinks as he looks Minhyun up and down—even his proportions are good…

“Urgh.”

Minhyun turns to look at Minki in confusion.

“it’s nothing.”

* * *

 

It takes some walking, but Minki and his cursed boots finally make their way into the crowded McDonalds. 

That’s right—walked across a whole mall just to eat shitty fast food.

“Who picked...y’know what? Never mind,” Minki groans as he spots a familiar quartet sitting at a table.

Jonghyun was the most obvious,  _ still  _ wearing those cat ears but also surrounded by paper bags with illustrations of various anime characters on them. They were filled to the brink with all types of merchandises, prints, badges, charms—you name it. 

Sitting across from him was Dongho, his brow furrowed in scrutiny of Jonghyun’s...collection. He was one of the volunteer security members for the convention, doing it mostly for the pass benefits (to later on lend to his friends...but you didn’t hear it from Minki).

One of those friends, Jieqiong, was busy drawing in her sketchbook. She co-owned a booth spot with her girlfriend, Eunwoo, where they sold their art during conventions. Jieqiong did more on-the-spot commissions while Eunwoo looked over the booth—which was where Minki assumed she was right now.

And last but not least…

“Hey, Nayoung—all this thigh exposure is annoying isn’t it?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

Minki snorts and walks up to the also-white-haired girl. She, the 2B to his 9S, looked amazing. As expected of his styling, he thinks to himself.

“Really though, did anyone try any shady shit with you?” his tone comes with a hint of worry. Her costume was revealing, and they were in a community, which, although filled with amazing and good people, was also known for its share of creeps.

“No, thankfully. I was alone for awhile though. You’re lucky you have your servant with you,” Nayoung raises her eyebrows, taking a sip of her drink.

“Hey! He’s not just a servant,” Minki protests. “He’s also a bodyguard—” 

A small gasp comes from behind him, and Minki turns around to see Minhyun with an exaggerated look of shock on his face.

Goddamn his good looks.

* * *

 

They sit at the crowded table after finally convincing Jonghyun to move some of his bags onto the floor (“but the dirt!”). 

Minki tries to look over at whatever Jieqiong was madly scribbling, but was met with a prompt snarl from the younger.

“Go away. I need to finish this by three and it’s already…” she checks her phone. “Two-forty—fuck!”

Minki decides to leave her to her business.

“So…” he instead gestures over at Jonghyun, raising his eyebrows as if to prompt an explanation.

“He would’ve bought even more if I didn’t  _ physically  _ drag him away from the booths,” Nayoung deadpans, not even sparing said man a glance.

“There was a pretty My Hero Academia print…” Jonghyun whines.

“Are you hearing yourself?” Nayoung gasps in exasperation, looking from him, to his merchandise. “Are you  _ seeing  _ yourself?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jonghyun almost looks like a lost puppy, shrinking back into his seat. 

Minki laughs as Nayoung stares the poor guy down, but soon realizes that Minhyun was missing from their table. “Hm? Where did Minhyun go?”

“He went to go order food for the both of you,” Nayoung answers, sparing Jonghyun’s pride for now.

“Oh.”

Suddenly, Jieqiong’s head snaps up as she stares straight into Minki’s eyes. “Hold up. There’s some gay shit going on here—have you guys gotten together yet?”

A garbled mess of empty words and air escapes Minki’s mouth as he tries to hide the fact he choked on his own saliva. What was Jieqiong talking about?! Out of nowhere—

“I-I don’t? like him? that way?” he manages to splutter out in between coughs. 

“Hm,” Jieqiong thinks for a moment. “Alright,” and as casually as that, she returns to her drawing.

Minki spies Dongho eyeing him out of the corner of his eye and gives him a glare of “shut the fuck up” as he wipes his mouth. Oh great—now his makeup was ruined too.

“You guys would be cute together, y’know,” Dongho starts cautiously, poised to shield himself from any stray fries that might be thrown his way.

“Nope. Noooopeee. Not in a thousand years.”

“Minki, I’ve known you for years. I can tell when you’re—”

“Hey, make some room for me?”

As if to celebrate Minhyun’s return, he is greeted by the sight of Minki stuffing a burger into Dongho’s face.

“Are you guys...okay?”

“ _ Yep _ .”

Minhyun frowns in confusion but sits down next to Minki anyways. As if rehearsed, he removes his set from the tray and slides Minki’s share over to him—which, of course, was exactly what he felt like eating today.

It was ridiculous how much Hwang Minhyun knew about him—fuck, not even that. Minhyun could read him like an open book and he would be none the wiser.

He was so whipped.

* * *

 

After finishing their meals (and yelling at the neighbouring table of cosplayers to keep it the fuck down), Minki and Nayoung parted ways with the others to attend their photoshoot.

And as expected, Minhyun tagged along, which made  _ sense _ , since he signed up to help out in the first place, but Minki couldn’t help but feel on edge especially after the conversation earlier.

(His heart doesn’t slow down as Minhyun helps tie the blindfold back up.)

Admittedly, Minhyun was less of a threat now that Minki couldn’t see him, but now it was just him alone with his thoughts. Just what _did_ Minhyun think of him? Sure, Minki saw them as friends, but what did Minhyun really gain from sticking by him so much? Being his personal helper and all...no—Minki didn’t want to even entertain the thought. They were just friends, that was _it_. Minhyun probably just hangs out with him because he’s funny or something...yeah, sure. 

Anything to stop this train of thought.

“Hey, give us a few more minutes,” he hears Nayoung call out and he lifts his blindfold in confusion as she approaches him.

“Minki...are you okay?” she furrows her brow, voice lowered to a whisper. “You’re usually really professional about these things—what’s with the spacing out?”

“It’s nothing,” Minki lies through his teeth, shrugging off her concern—but he should’ve known, of all people, she would see through him.

“It’s not nothing. What’s up?”

“...”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Minki looks off to the side. 

Nayoung lets out a small sigh and reaches out to pat him on the arm. She knew there was nothing more she could do for him—it was his battle to fight, but a little emotional support couldn’t hurt.

“...Thanks.”

“Do you want to reschedule the shoot?”

“No, it’s fine. I just have to get my shit together.”

Nayoung gives him another look, but nods her head and turns back to the photographers. He breathes out a sigh of defeat as he lowers the blindfold once more, hand returning to his sword.

The shoot goes by smoothly, to Minki’s relief. Turns out he  _ could  _ control his stupid emotions if he just tried. It was one for the books, too, as their location was beyond fitting for their cosplay. He hums in satisfaction as the photographers went over the shots with them—just some lighting edits here and there...and voila—award winning photo.

He dreams, anyways.

His mood stays in the clouds as he turns to retrieve his bag, only to realize it was already being handed to him by the devil himself (once again).

“You did well,” Minhyun smiles—and all it takes is that one smile for everything to come crashing down again.

Minki’s heart aches.

“Yeah, thanks.”

* * *

 

The atmosphere is heavy as Minki watches everyone pack their bags. His head throbs from wearing the wig for hours on end, his feet hurt from being crammed into boots and made to walk laps around the hall—in fact everything hurt.

His body felt heavy, which was normal for the end of the last day of a convention, but it was different this time. There wasn’t any sense of excitement to go drinking with everyone, nothing in him wanted to celebrate the end of another convention well-spent—not with Minhyun around.

It’s not like Minki wanted him gone, far from it. It was just that stupid schoolgirl heart-throbbing nonsense in him that make him wish for death to just take him already. There’s no need to go around fucking up more friendships with false notions of romance. His gentle touches meant nothing, his kind words were obligatory, Minki knows this all and yet…

“Do you guys want to stay for dinner?” Nayoung breaks the silence, looking back and forth between the two.

“Nah, not really—I’m exhausted. Do you mind leaving early today?” Minki forces out a sheepish laugh, staring straight at Nayoung in an attempt to pretend Minhyun wasn’t standing just next to him.

“I don’t mind—as long as you’re sure,” the concern is apparent in her voice, though it doesn’t show on her face.

“Yeah, sure,” Minki hums and turns his attention back to his bag.

Nayoung was their transport to and from the convention. Minki felt bad for making her leave early because of him, but he made a mental note to make it up to her some other time.

“Take care of my stuff—I’m gonna go change. This wig is killing me,” he attempts to joke feebly before darting off in the direction of the nearest toilet.

* * *

 

“...”

“Just say it, Minhyun.”

“...Do you think he knows?” 

“He has no clue.”

“...Am I really not being obvious enough?”

“No, you’re being as clear as day. He’s just...struggling with himself.”

“Hah, it’s okay. I’ll tell him tonight.”

“You better.”

* * *

 

Minki was a mess—both on the outside and the inside. He stares at himself in the mirror, face now void of the layers of makeup he had caked on, hair a complete mess after being under a wig for hours on end. He tries to fix the bird's nest on his head somehow, wetting it and running his fingers through but nothing works—talk about a metaphor for his life.    
  
Being overly dramatic aside, he's spent enough damn time in the toilet. He was being enough of an ass even without making his friends wait for him. It sucked how often conventions ended this way, everyone tired and touchy after a stressful weekend, even if everything was fun. That being said, they at least tried to be on their best behaviour—meanwhile Minki was over here being a big baby over his unrequited feelings for a friend who he can't even figure out actually likes him or not. 

He wasn't delusional enough to hope for Hwang Minhyun of all people to return his feelings—the man was a god, for fuck’s sake. Sure, they may have known each other for awhile now but that meant nothing. He’s known  _ Dongho  _ for longer and they sure as hell didn’t want to bone each other (not that he’s thought of Minhyun that way). In fact, Minki felt weird not knowing anything about Minhyun, even after all this time.

With one last glare at his reflection, Minki finally shoves the door open only to barely miss smacking a stranger in the face. He manages to mumble an apology before speed-walking back to where the others were.

“Sorry I took so long,” Minki offers, making a beeline for his bag as an excuse to avoid conversation. He rummages through it looking for nothing in particular, stuffing his costume and wig in with recklessness that future-him would surely cry over, but right now, he couldn’t give a shit as to whether wrinkles or tangles formed on either. 

“It’s okay. I’ll go get the car—you guys wait near the main entrance,” Nayoung nods, setting off without a second thought but stops when Minki squeaks out a small “wait”.

“I...Err—we can go with you?” he stammers, eyes almost pleading.

“No, it’s fine. Just stick together—I have some...errands to run so I might be awhile,” Nayoung shakes her head, giving almost a knowing smile.

Minki wants to cry.

And that’s how they end up sitting on the stairs leading up to the hall’s entrance, silence settling upon them like a thick blanket. The atmosphere is suffocating, Minki looking like he’d rather die than speak up (which was closer to the truth than he’d like to admit). Minhyun was visually upset, but his worry made sense considering how close he and Minki usually were.

Minhyun finally takes the initiative and moves just a bit closer to where Minki sat. His movements were nervous, hesitant, but he nudges Minki out of his trance.   
  
"Minki...are you—" he doesn't get to finish before his hand is slapped out of the way. There's a look of shock on his face, but it quickly fades into concern.   
  
"I— sorry, I didn't mean to—" Minki stammers in a panic with eyes wide.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No...I mean I—I want to, but…”    
  
A moment of silence passes with Minki looking down, then back up at Minhyun in defeat.   
  
“Fuck, okay. Why do you stick around me so much?" he manages to force out, fists clenched in anticipation. He couldn't talk his way out of this anymore—he's always been a direct person, after all (yeah right).

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...you don’t like anime or conventions—you don’t even take pictures or anything, you don’t  _ like  _ things like these— “

“Minki…”

“I just feel bad dragging you around and you helping me with everything and I— “

“ _ Minki _ .”

Minki takes a deep breath and braces himself for the worst.   
  
"I like you."

“What.”

“I hang out around you so much because I like you.”

It takes awhile for the implication to settle in, Minki's eyes widening to almost inhuman levels. That...he didn’t hear that, right? 

“You...like me? Like, as a friend?”   
  
"No. I want to go out with you,” Minhyun smiles with small shake of his head.   
  
Minki almost faints there and then.   
  
"Wh-what do you even," he whimpers, wanting so badly to escape whatever situation this was right now. Was he being pranked? Was Minhyun setting him up for something here—that can't be it. Minhyun would never do something like that.

“Look, I…” Minhyun starts off but his gaze drifts off for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Minki raises his eyebrows in surprise when he starts rummaging through his bag, then even more when he finally pulls out Minki’s blindfold.

“What are you—“

He shuts up when the blindfold covers his eyes, left too stunned to even complain. It was weird how often Minhyun was the one who submerges him into this darkness. He hears nothing this time, though, left with only the sound of his own heart thumping away against his chest. It feels like an eternity before anything happens, but then he suddenly feels something close, a warm breath on his skin. In an instant, Minhyun’s lips were on his.   
  
It's gentle and brief, but the warmth lingers (Minki finds himself chasing the kiss just a bit).    
  
"—like that. I like you like that," Minhyun says breathlessly in a way that sends shivers down Minki's spine. The blindfold is slowly dropped and he couldn’t have asked for a better sight to greet him. Minhyun with his gaze diverted, ears red and lips parted—trembling? Was he...embarrassed?   
  
Minki's stare was piercing, eyes glazed over with how punch-drunk he felt. Seeing  _ the  _  Hwang Minhyun with a flustered look on his face was something he never thought he needed in his life.    
  
Who would've thought he could look even more unreal.   
  
"Are you...going to say anything...?" Minhyun finally breathes out after collecting himself. Minki had been staring for awhile now and it was getting a bit awkward.   
  
"Uh," Minki finally snaps out of his trance. "Yeah."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Yeah. I like you too. I like you a lot."   
  
Minki has to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from laughing out of embarrassment. This was so basic, but he wouldn't have expected anything else from Minhyun.   
  
But then Minhyun lets out a laugh—out of relief? The same embarrassment? Minki doesn't know, but it makes him laugh too.    
  
They must've looked so stupid, two guys laughing to themselves and nothing else—but fuck if they cared.

“Beep!”

Minki looks up to see Nayoung’s car, the window rolling down.

“I’ll take it it worked?” Nayoung smiles almost smugly and Minki has to resist the urge to bury his face into his bag. What he doesn’t see is Minhyun nodding at her before getting up on his feet.

“Come on,” Minhyun offers Minki a hand and reminds him once again how much of a goddamn gentleman he is. With a swift motion, Minki grabs on and pulls himself up, only to nearly trip over his own sore feet.

“Oh my god, I’m never wearing boots ever again.”

* * *

 

“Minhyun.”

“No.”

“Do it for me?”

“I can’t…”

“ _ Please _ .”

“...”

“I won’t take any pictures…?”

“...Fine, but only this one time.”

The very next day, the image of Hwang Minhyun in a silver-white wig circulated their friend circle—prompting Minki’s ass to be handed to him by a very flustered prince.

**Author's Note:**

> for nik, because i find myself never giving back even after receiving so much from you...so i decided to end that tradition finally! i hope you enjoyed it, it's not my best work but i remember you complaining about the lack of minren so i tried my best! i've never written a minki in my life but i hope i did him justice ❤︎ sorry i kept this from you during that one word sprint but it was supposed to be a surprise haha;;
> 
> anyways i hope anyone who read this enjoyed! thank you for giving my lame au a chance!
> 
> p.s. my twitter is [@sailorjihoons](https://twitter.com/sailorjihoons) if you want to come chat and stuff!


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